


A Conversation between a Hunter and a Psychopath

by justsimplymeagain



Category: Hannibal (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Background Hannigram, Castiel did not work with Crowley, Crossover, Gen, Hannigram - Freeform, Happyish situations in both shows, M/M, Murder Husbands, No framing Will, Season 1 Hannibal NBC, Season 6 Supernatural, alternative universe, different ending, no encephalitis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-16 11:22:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2267889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsimplymeagain/pseuds/justsimplymeagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For brief moments two worlds touched, one involving hunters and the hunted and two involving FBI agents and fruitless searching for killers. All of which ending with a surprise twist that will forever leave Hannibal's view of things changed (This is an AU where I took creative rights with time-lines and pairings)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hannibal NBC - Yes, Franklin is still alive. Murder Husbands is a thing and season 2 did not happen. Season 1 without the Encephalitis and framing of Will. 
> 
> Supernatural – Season 7 – 9 did not happen. Season 6 ended differently and without Castiel doing the foolish/desperate thing of working with Crowley (Crowley isn't a full on enemy of the Winchester's more like the twisted ally the sometimes need)

Hannibal Lecter is a man of complicated tastes and one who will indulge his own vices freely and knowingly. He was also a man who was viewed rightfully so as intelligent and complex. For the most part, colleagues and acquaintances would explain that knowledge away when taking his education and career into account. They would not be wrong.

Hannibal was also a man who has chosen solitude and isolation, despite being seen at several events and hosting dinner parties.

Why?

Because few stalked up to what it would take to exist in his world, and who would hold that right. And, even less would accept his taste in meat and what he views as art. Even now as he sat at his desk sharpening his pencil skillfully with his scalpel; there was a game of cat and mouse going on between himself and the FBI, a personal war wrought for his own amusement and on his opponents side the yearning to give justice to the perceived victims who graced Hannibal's kitchen.

The paper Hannibal has ordered to his specific specifications laid flat in front of him. The outlines of his latest curiosity softly sketched on the quality paper. Normally it would be one Will Graham that graced his drawings when late in the evening, though the man was rarely far from Hannibal's thoughts. There was even a room for him in Hannibal's mind palace and much to Hannibal's quiet surprise next to what could be considered a child's room. His beloved sister, Mischa Lecter's room.

No, the man who was coming to life on paper was one Hannibal has met a total of two times at two different times.

With skillful movements he brought the eyes to life. Eyes that have seen too much and knows even more. There was a certain amount of pain and disappointment, no doubt sustained from childhood and to some degree as an adult given how much Hannibal has seen. But as interesting as it is and make no mistake, it was because Hannibal wanted to pick at each crack to see what caused each wound seen there.

It was the darkness in those eyes that managed to hold Hannibal's attention far greater than pain. The man had a cruelty in him that most are not aware of and turn a blind eye to.

In the end, those were the eyes of a killer. But not one like Hannibal.

Everything about this man screamed out as being a killer, a fighter and perhaps even a soldier to some degree. All he was missing was the tall-tale dog-tags that hung around ones neck. It was this quality that made Hannibal curious enough to wish to speak with the man and learn just what it was that made him a killer.

However, the first meeting with this man did not lead Hannibal to give the man a second thought beyond mild annoyance.

_~ Meeting One ~_

_Hannibal parked his 2001 Bentley Arnage outside a gas station on the way back to Baltimore. He just finished assisting Jack with another case that at first the man thought to be another Ripper case. Something that turned out to not be the case, and Hannibal would have intimate knowledge of that. This kill was too sloppy to be one of his works of art. To hear Will point that out made Hannibal feel excitement and if Hannibal was to be bold, he would say it made Hannibal want the younger empath all the more and at that very spot._

_Will could be quit enticing with his words, and Hannibal suspected that this time those words were deliberately chosen for Hannibal alone and not Jack who seemed frustrated at the news._

_Taking up two parking spots was another car, a Chevrolet Impala to be exact. The year was beyond Hannibal at the moment, it was not something he normally deems important unless it involves Hannibal or one of Hannibal's schemes. It was something that Hannibal can easily deem rude. But luckily for the owner, Hannibal's fridge was full and he was in a generous mood. Still it did not change the fact that there was a twinge of annoyance fluttering around in the forefront of his mind._

_Gas stations were not his first choice, there was barely anything he can rightfully deem edible and much less drinkable without it being toxic in some form or another. But thirst was a force to be reckoned with, much like his unquenchable hunger for human flesh. With an inward sigh Hannibal scanned what was available for his choices. Despite the fact that in the end Hannibal will always choose water. Soda and the variety of juices always left a foul taste in his mouth._

_“Dude, pie.” A loud voice from the other side of the small store. Loud enough to draw Hannibal's attention away from mocking bottles behind the glass doors scuffed and used much too frequently by nearby locals. Taking a quick glance Hannibal noted that the man, despite his cheery disposition seemed tense and cautious. The larger one that he was obvious with was similar only had more annoyance to show._

_There was a disagreement about what to buy. Pie or fruit with the little amount of money they had left on them._

_Deciding that his time and his attention was better served on procuring a drink, Hannibal singled out a simple bottle of water. Not as cold as one of his own bottled water at home, but this would do for the moment. With it in his hand he politely cuts past the two men who were about half way between where Hannibal was and the teller._

_On the way by, Hannibal picked up the scent of salt, gasoline and gunpowder. There was also a wide assortment of other products that Hannibal would deem to be hotel products. Cheap with an artificial scent to go with it. Nomadic possibly. It was rare for Hannibal to cross paths with individuals who are considered nomadic. However, that was not enough to hold his attention beyond taking faint notice and nothing more._

_~ End ~_

Hannibal calmly sharpened his pencil once more, satisfied with the face for the moment he moved onto drawing the outline of the body. Much like his Will, this man wore layers of clothing as protection. But both Will and the man coming to life on paper did so for two different yet similar reasons.

Will Graham's reasons were well categorized in the book Hannibal kept for his notes on the very fascinating empathic agent. His layered clothing was designed to keep people from looking too closely and to act as a barrier between the younger man and everyone else. If people did look, they would see someone who was becoming thinner and unhealthy from stress and being overworked. They would also see a skittish man who held on to his personal space with a vengeance when possible. In the end, the truth remained the same. The layers of clothing was protection.

For this man-who Hannibal has learned in their second meeting is named Dean Winchester. Layered clothing behaved as a blinder. To keep people from noticing the honed body designed and trained to kill and hurt. Hannibal could wage a guess that it was to hide the blood that was in Dean's mind only. You could not see a stain if covered by layers after all. There was also the hint that this was a man who did not like the cold at all.

Taking a sip of wine, a Chateau Mouton Rothschild Pauillac year 1986 to be exact. He quite enjoyed the array of aromas that he could detect and the palate is comfortably seamless from his first impression to finish, it effortlessly built layers of complexity in his mouth and leading to a very long, earth and spice finish. It truly was a treat Hannibal liked to indulge in once in a while.

Leaning back in his chair slightly, giving himself a relaxed posture Hannibal allowed himself to go through his second meetings with Dean Winchester. The one where he learnt just who this man was and possibly a fraction of what he was capable of. This was also where Hannibal found out that humans were not the only capable monster in the world.

In the end, this was a fascinating lesson and one that stuck with Hannibal without fail.

_~ Meeting Two – Part One ~_

_Jack has once again, called upon Hannibal Lecter for his assistance. This time rather than be there should Will require assistance, it was to be in Will's place due to the man having his teaching job that required his direct attention rather than a substitute teacher no matter who it might have been. Jack wasn't too pleased, but he understood and became more agreeable when Hannibal volunteered his own assistance. Leaving Will behind was not something Jack wanted to do, the man was quite used to someone spelling out the motive and thoughts that the killer might have had when he performed his acts. In Hannibal's opinion, Jack was too reliant on Will's talents._

_But that served Hannibal in the end. After all, Will would not allow Jack to stumble on a moment of clarity regarding the Chesapeake Ripper's kills and more importantly that Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper. Will was quite fond of the life and how things are now and at one point admitted that he would not be comfortable with the idea of Hannibal behind incarcerated. A joke was thrown in about who would make Will breakfast then._

_It also helped his case that the boy had a darkness in him that sung sweet tunes of blood and death, all of which more than enough to have Hannibal's attention. It was only a matter of time now for Will to truly embrace what he is and Hannibal was sure his becoming will be nothing short of glorious to watch._

_The location the current case was located in a small town that was tucked out of the way. It was not somewhere Hannibal would have chosen to go if he were given the choice, but this was where they were required to come. Jack was barking orders, the team was scrambling around trying to get their jobs done without touching the scene itself._

_Jack made the decision to go the same route as he would with Will._

_Before entering the scene, the good agent Beverly Katz made a joke about him being the step in Will Graham. A joke he took more like a compliment than anything, but acknowledged all the same. It would have been rude not to do so._

_The door closed behind him as Hannibal stood still for a moment. Jack had the door closed out of trust that he would not destroy any of the evidence and so that Hannibal would not have outside interference to whatever process he might think Hannibal would assume. He would not be entirely mistaken._

_Looking around Hannibal could already tell that this was a full on attack. The door frame of the front door looks like it was forced in, but not recently. Every little thing in this one story house had a story and each played a part to explain what has happened here. There were marks on the wall that spoke of gun's and potentially shotguns. The wall appeared to have been stabbed by mistake, most likely missing the man now crumbled close to the front door._

_The head was missing, although a couple of steps later Hannibal took note of where it landed._

_Inhaling through his nose, Hannibal closed his eyes._

_Gunpowder was the clear indication that he was correct about the bullet holes and wounds found in both victims and walls. The blood was nearly overpowering the other scents. He could come to the conclusion that there were two attackers. Both armed and dangerous. Hotel products most likely hair wash and body wash could be detected, but just barely. Sweat was another one._

_This scene, however, had the unfinished feel to it, the back door was still open, it has been left open in order to keep the scene as it was found. Using that door Hannibal could tell that the attackers had to make a quick exit after they finished killing everyone. A spilt canister of gasoline was an indication of how this scene might have been finished. A poor disposal method and the salt was confusing as to why it was next to the gasoline._

_Heading back towards the door he took another inhale through his nose, the blood was bothering him a bit and not because it was blood._

_There was something different about it, but what Hannibal had no idea what._

_Instead of going through the house again, Hannibal walked around and approached Jack that way. Telling him what he found out and surprising the man with how keen Hannibal's sense of smell really was. Something Hannibal thinks he shouldn't be, considering the little insight that was gifted when Jack first brought his lovely wife to dinner. Still it was little slips of the mind like that one that would be Jacks downfall one day._

_From there the rest of the team was allowed in; to take what evidence they could find that would be relevant to the case, pictures for the visuals when needed and finally to get the crime scene cleaned up._

_Comments from other members could be heard whispered amongst them, discussions about cages and how some of the bodies had very little blood left in them. Jokes about vampires and Dracula was shot around, silenced only by Jack having enough of it. Hannibal wasn't complaining, all the discussions about vampires was juvenile as it was. They were not real after all. Hannibal took it upon himself to scanning the crowd. Two stood out, standing in the back while leaning against the wall of a nearby house. They didn't share the same curiosity as other bystander._

_Hannibal calmly watched them for the moment, at least until Jack managed to draw Hannibal's attention away from the two bystanders to the case that was the reason that drew them here in the first place. A quick glance back Hannibal noted that they were no longer standing in that spot and was nowhere to be seen._

_\- End -_

It was this case that brought both his own path and Dean Winchester's path side by side if only for a small amount of time. It was also the first true glimpse into a world where there was more than humans. Unfortunately it was also this case that Hannibal found himself in a rather precarious situation that left his life threatened and his instinct on high alert. He was a survivor and this situation had him more than willing to do whatever it took to survive.

Even risk destroying years of carefully building his life as a doctor and then as a psychiatrist should the need arise.

_~ Meeting Two – Part Two ~_

_When Hannibal first started to assist Jack with cases he did not expect it to last this long and for so many cases as it was, and this case especially turned into something Hannibal could not have predicted even if he attempted to. This was the most concerning fact about it._

_And yet, here he was._

_Sore and bruised having to deal with what at first seemed to be a mere suspect that required questioning turned out to be much more. Hannibal initiated its flight or fight reaction and this was something that didn't go for the former, instead attacked Hannibal. Now Hannibal was no slouch in self defence because he was quite capable of handling himself in a fight. However, the second he was against a wall with the former witness's forearm holding him in place across his chest and hair gripped tightly, Hannibal became well-aware that he was dealing with someone stronger than he was._

_There was a second set of teeth that slipped down out of the gums somehow surprised Hannibal enough that he stopped struggling for only a second. His mind taking that development and adding it to a growing suspicion all the while trying to figure out a way to get out of this situation alive and hopefully in one piece._

_Struggling once more Hannibal employed every technique he was aware of to attempt to break free of the strong grip, letting his own mask of calmness slip away to show his disapproval and frustration as he glared._

_He will not be killed here and by this thing._

_Whatever it is._

_It shot forward, intent to bite Hannibal on his forcibly bared throat. Anger curled in Hannibal and for the first time in so very long he felt weak and wondered if this was his own victims felt when faced with their demise. The conclusion to that line of thought was simple, Hannibal hated it._

_The thing stumbled against him, a gun shot still rang in his ears._

_What happened next intrigued Hannibal in a cold curiosity as he watched the thing stagger backwards and face the one who held the gun, someone he expected to be Jack turned out to be the same man Hannibal has once seen at a gas station and again watching the crime scene Hannibal first visited within this small unremarkable town. But gone was the cheerfulness that rang more false than true that was present at the gas station. In its place was someone who seemed like he was used to situations like this one, in his eyes alone there was a darkness that called out and the body language was that of a well-practised killer._

_But not a killer like Hannibal is._

_The thing attacked the man head on as though it hasn't just been shot in the back. Hannibal could freely admit to himself that he was shocked at the lack of affect the bullet had and now there was an ever-increasing curiosity as to what this thing was._

_Perhaps the man would care to share the information regarding what the thing attacking him currently was. The man seemed like he was used to dealing with things like this, used its own anger and momentum to gain control until one final swing of a machete Hannibal doesn't remember being in the man's hand in the start._

_The thud was an oddly anti-climatic ending to the situation as the thing laid dead on the ground, head separated from its body._

_“Did it bite you?” The man-the killer asked. Scanning Hannibal up and down, Hannibal grimaced at what he must look like after his own struggle with it. The question could be called concern, but that did not sound as honest as most would have liked._

_Did this man intend Hannibal to be the next one dead on the ground if it were the case?_

_“No.” Hannibal's answered, completely honest and it didn't need to be said that the thing would have bitten him if given the chance._

_“Share blood with you?” The man asked, voice still tense and fingers gripping the handle slightly. Hannibal took note of it and focused on the man's eyes. Dangerous, cutting and cautious. Possibly hyper aware at the moment as well._

_“No.” Hannibal wanted to ask why as well, but made the decision to file that question away for later._

_The man seemed to relax at that, whatever it was he seemed satisfied and instantly cleaned off the machete before slipping it back in a sheath and tucked away from sight. Easy to carry and easy to pull out again. It was clear that he was going to dispose of the body soon. The only thing that was stopping him is Hannibal's presence. The man seemed to have to remind himself of something before approaching Hannibal._

_“You okay buddy?”The man asked, satisfied with the answers he gained and now moving on to the next thing he probably figured was important. Concern for the civilian in his midst._

_“Yes, quite. Although I am slightly embarrassed to be in this sort of situation. Normally I am not the one to perform this job without a proper agent with me.” Hannibal said, brushing his hair back with the palm of his hand. Making sure each word fits the emotion he chose to express. Most in this situation would be reacting worse than Hannibal, and at the moment he was not in any mood to put on more of an act than this._

_The man seemed suspicious, but for the moment accepting._

_A snort was the sign that Hannibal might not have to worry either way now. All the same, his walls remained up and Hannibal took note of every possible weapon within his reach. He was ready and willing to fight for his life if he had to. And Hannibal could do whatever it took to achieve his own survival._

_“Don't be, you held the bastard off. Not many would have lasted as long.” Hannibal assumed that this was the man's way of offering reassurance of sorts. Reassurance that was not required._

_Hannibal nodded in thanks, giving the reaction of being appreciative of that statement, despite the crudeness of a chosen word. Eventually Hannibal asked the man what the thing cooling at their feet was and who the man was. Both answers seemed reluctant to be given and it took some gentle coaxing and explanations that it would help Hannibal make peace with what happened to him. Lies most of it, but it achieved what he wanted._

_Out of the life saved, Hannibal did not report this to Jack and watched as things quietened down in town and the black car the man-Dean Winchester drove disappeared._

_Jack was disappointed, but Hannibal could care less about that. Still he reacted as Jack would expect. Shame and guilt and apologetic to some extent, but not too much. One must never seem to grovel when there was absolutely no need for it._

_~ End ~_

From that point on, Hannibal sought out information about the supernatural. To either confirm what is true and find out what was falsified to a point where there was not even an ounce of truth to be found in them. The story of the Wendigo was also something that Hannibal took some closer notice to when researching about the supernatural. Then, there was also his curiosity regarding Dean Winchester and his profession as a hunter. Hannibal as a good researcher took note of known family relations both deceased and alive. So far, the only living member was his younger brother Sam Winchester.

Their story was a tragic one, Hannibal could admit that. A part, if only a small part, could sympathize. But that did nothing to sway his curiosity and wish to see just what made the eldest sibling a killer like the one he saw hints of back when the man saved Hannibal's life.

He spent most of his time searching out information and wondering just how there managed to be so many reports filed of him being deceased. The rest of his time was filled with his own job, his work with the FBI, research and spending his free time split between himself and his dear William who was slowly coming along quite nicely. Not yet a killer like Hannibal, but they were getting there. One must never rush evolutionary moments like this one. But soon he will have his partner in every way.

Hannibal treated his research as he would his job, his information was located in books disguised as books of notes regarding patients of his.

Sipping at his wine Hannibal stared down at the finished product of his drawing. It deserved to be added to his collection of drawings.

A knock on the door was enough to force Hannibal to pause in the task he was doing of placing the drawing within a folder to relocate to a room in his house where he keeps most of his drawn work out of harm's way. Checking his watch, Hannibal noted it to be only nine at night. He had no appointments.

With a slight frown Hannibal calmly walked to the door putting on a welcoming, but stern expression to show his displeasure at being disturbed so late all the while plotting where every tool that could be used with each step. If it was William, Hannibal would automatically switch to a more welcoming expression. After all, he was not one to turn away his dear Will.

Much to Hannibal's surprise it was neither an unwelcome intruder on his personal time or Will.

It was none other than Dean Winchester.

“I think you and I need to talk.” Dean stated, it wasn't a question. The man was here on business and Hannibal wondered just how it became obvious to this man that Hannibal was seeking out information regarding him and his life.

“Likewise.” Hannibal agreed, after all, what better opportunity to fulfil what he was seeking to do when he first started to search for information. With a slight smile that only lasted as long as it needed to open the door and invite the stiff man inside his office. He watched as Dean looked around and Hannibal wondered just how much weapons did the man see. If he saw any at all and Hannibal was sure he did.

There was a slight limp in Dean's walk. Injury to his left leg, no doubt knee. Something to exploit should the need arise. Hannibal offered a drink and gave the choice between wine, water or tea. He did not have coffee on this late, it would be counter productive after all. Dean turned him down on all choices and instead circled the room, looking and touching a few things. Hannibal fought down the temptation to clean where Dean touched and move things back to their original spot.

It was a compulsion he had to live with at times. But not the worst.

“A little bird told me you're looking up information 'bout me and Sam.” Dean cut right to the point. Not wanting to spend more time here than necessary no doubt. Hannibal took the speaking pattern into account and decided to take on a more simple form of speech. For some of his patients he needed to do this while others were complicated enough for him to articulate himself up to a more preferred speech pattern.

Hannibal acknowledged Dean, offered him a seat where Hannibal's patients take up space when they were visiting and seeing Hannibal's aid for their problems.

Hannibal sat across from him, hands folded in his lap as he regarded Dean in a calm manner. Faint bruising told Hannibal Dean was in a fight recently. Injured, but not to a serious extent past bruising and the limp he noted earlier. Hannibal was in fit shape and had nothing to hinder him, but the small amount of wine in his stomach.

“Why?” It was not a question, Hannibal took it for what it was. A demand.

From here on out, things could go several different ways and all of which might promise slight amusement and a way to test his own skills. However, the route he wants to take was the one where he walks away with more knowledge and information regarding his two chosen categories to study on his own time. Once he has gained this, his need for the man across from him would be next to nothing. How that unfolds and ends is up to Dean Winchester. There was truly only two options.

Walk out of that door and go back to his life. Or it would be a one way ticket to Hannibal's kitchen and perhaps become a part of a nice and simple breakfast deal Hannibal could use for Will, the man loved getting breakfast made for him, despite his denial of his enjoyment. Hannibal did admit to himself that there was a certain pleasure gained in providing that enjoyment.

“I want answers. For the most part regarding the supernatural, call it a curiosity of mine.” Hannibal stated, and it wasn't a complete lie because he did want to know. Dean's eyes narrowed though, it was clear the man was not amused by this development. Hannibal calmly leaned back, illusion to a relaxed state when it was the opposite.

The move was Dean's, will he answer and go down this preferred route.

Or would Hannibal be forced to take the answers he wished by some other manner?


	2. Chapter 2

Hannibal's day went casually well once he left the warmth of his bed and Will Graham's side.

The weather above him was grey and the skies promised rain while Hannibal stood with his hands in his jacket's pockets to protect them from the slight chill. The temperature has dropped this time of the year, and Hannibal prized his hands still and so he kept them warm and the blood properly circulating through each digit. When someone would ask, it was passed off as old habits because as a surgeon his hands were his prized tool above all equipment given to him to use.

There was also the fact that this was a crime scene.

Hannibal held himself the way he did for a simple reason, for show. He kept his hands to his side and out of the way. Not to contaminate the crime scene and to keep himself at a distance from it physically. He was after all, only a civilian. Or so everyone thought. Jack just assumed it was for protection and Hannibal went with that.

Will was ahead of him, looking at the crime scene and seeing all the secrets that were laced through each incision and each improvement to the canvas. The former conversation partner had his body spread out and upright, open for the world to see. His tongue in it's proper place because for once Hannibal could not fault the man for speaking when the conversation only improved on knowledge that Hannibal has gathered.

His heart was missing as was liver and kidney. His brain uncovered and revealed to the world to see, it held such promise and knowledge.

“It's the ripper.” Will confirmed, making eye contact with Jack and Hannibal before putting on his glasses, a shield to keep every unknown person away and out. Hannibal won't fault the man for that after all if Hannibal had to admit it, he was slightly possessive anyway. Why would he want the whole world past that unspoken barrier that Will has built up over the years?

“Are you sure?” Jack pushed, putting himself within Will's personal space. Something that was remedied by the younger man taking a few steps towards Hannibal, always towards Hannibal it would appear. And soon, to his truer self.

“Yes.” Will confirmed as he stopped near Hannibal. It was clearly not what Jack wanted to hear, but that was now the norm for the blunt man who shoved his hands deep into his pockets in frustration before barking orders towards everyone. Hannibal made sure to keep his presence noticeable should he be needed, but out of the way so he didn't hinder anything. It wouldn't do well to pull such a stunt. There was no physical evidence that could trace back to Hannibal anyway, something Hannibal was quite confident about.

There was also Will who would make sure that nothing was found out, the man was – as he put it- being selfish.

Staring back at the bled and transformed body Hannibal's mind swept over the new knowledge gained from this man who's self confidence was lower than that of Will's. But the man did a better job at hiding that fact in the long run. Hannibal's eyes travelled to the empty cavity where the heart once was held and beat life through veins. The heart Hannibal and Will enjoyed for dinner the night following the enlightening conversation.

Jack approached, to see if he was okay.

Hannibal said that he was, admitting that he may never grow used to seeing such sights. Which was a lie of course, but Jack did not need to know this. While speaking with the man, Hannibal's mind wandered.

_~ A part of the Conversation - Part One ~_

_Hannibal eyed the bound man, drugged and beaten. His previous injuries made things sway to Hannibal's favour after it was apparent that things were not going to go in Hannibal's favour of just having a simple conversation. Something set this man off, had him seeing behind the veil Hannibal has so carefully crafted over the years. Once that happened, this outcome was to come regardless though. Something Hannibal made peace with as he pulled up a chair to sit near the hunter._

_Hannibal wanted to know about Wendigo's. He already found out some information about Dean Winchester's personal life, so it was time to move on._

_Hannibal needed to know how this creature was created and what signs were there if there was a change going on in someone. Hannibal has for many years felt a hunger that was not satisfied with rare meals. His meals and meat gathering has only increased steadily as the years went by every since his first taste to recent meals._

_Even in a drugged state, Dean Winchester's attention was keen. He asked the right questions, why did Hannibal want to know. Why was he asking. What this was about._

_“Merely curious Mr. Winchester, one cannot condemn the natural need to know.” Hannibal offhandedly answered to all the above questions. Given the drugged state, Dean answered._

_“Wendigo is an Algonqiun word. It means 'evil that devours.' They're hundreds of years old. Each was once a man, sometimes an Indian or other times a frontiersman or a miner or hunter...” Hannibal was aware of this, but said nothing. “...During some harsh winter, a guy finds himself starving, cut off from supplies or help -- becomes a cannibal to survive, eating other members of his tribe or camp. Cultures all over the world believe that eating human flesh gives a person certain abilities -- speed, strength, immortality. If you eat enough of it, over years, you become this less-than-human thing. You're always hungry." Dean answered._

_Hannibal was concerned of course, but it was something that he would not or ever show._

_“How long does it take for one to become a Wendigo?” Hannibal calmly asked and did not like the knowing and sarcastic grin that grew on Dean's face, twisted only because of Hannibal's own mixture that was given to the man and the bruised jaw._

_“You're a cannibal, aren't you? You hungry yet?” Dean mocked and Hannibal frowned. He didn't bother give the man an answer to that. Instead carried on with his questioning. He only had so long before the drugs wore off and Hannibal had to move on from this conversation and make use of the man in some other creative way. There was a lot of prep work that had to be done anyway._

_~ End Conversation ~_

The moment Hannibal could excuse himself from the crime scene he did. Of course not before making sure Will would be okay as well as offering his assistance should it be needed, Jack was properly appreciative of the gesture of course. His offer was declined and with that Hannibal calmly made his way past the vehicles and dodging one rude reporter who was of course named Freddie Lounds. Such a foul individual that often left Hannibal wondering just what she would taste like.

He hoped one day it would be Will to remedy her existence. It was the only thing that had Hannibal resisting the temptation of simply ending her.

With his temporary assistance at the crime scene finished, Hannibal noted he had time to make it back to his office for his last appointment for the day. Not to his pleasure of course, he had to deal with one Franklin Froideveaux who's attention was borderline stalking at times. Hannibal has noticed the stout man following him or ending up in the general area's Hannibal would frequent on errands. Still, he was currently a patient and one he could not pass on to someone else due to the man's outright refusal especially after he believed that Hannibal had saved him from Tobias Budge. Foolish man.

All the same, like it or not. Hannibal had a job to do and one thing he did take very serious was his job. His notes should prove that without a doubt.

Parking his Bentley, Hannibal noted that he still had plenty of time to get his office organized for his last patient.

With careful movements Hannibal got out of his car and approached the front entrance that led to his office, the sound of a vehicle behind him drew his attention enough to have him look behind him. What he saw was not what he was prepared to see, it was enough to send a cold chill down his spine and caused a state of confusion that forced him to pause in what he was doing.

The car that Dean spoke rather fondly about, a Chevrolet Impala slowly drove by before picking up speed around the corner and disappearing from sight. Who was driving was what got more reaction than the vehicle.

Dean Winchester.

The same Dean Winchester that was left displayed at a crime scene that was being cleaned up by now.

How?

With a frown Hannibal searched his memory palace for the answer, it had to be buried somewhere in the new found knowledge of the supernatural. Magic? A deal? What could this be? Or was Hannibal under the influence of something without his consent or knowledge, something that was farfetched in his mind. But the option was still on the table. Going through symptoms of several different possibilities for himself, Hannibal came up with nothing.

With exceeding amounts of caution Hannibal entered the building and quickly made way to his office. No one was around and that was all good and well. Hannibal was trying to put one and one together and did not wish to slow himself down with idle and pointless conversation.

Touching the doorknob to his office Hannibal picked up the scent of sulphur.

It brought another part of that conversation with Dean Winchester to the forefront of his mind while his heightened awareness kept an eye out for anything out of place.

_~ A part of the Conversation - Part Two~_

_Hannibal calmly listened to Dean Winchester's words, the man did say he never used to be the type to go after and deal with demons when he started hunting. It was always ghosts, ghouls or whatever else came across his radar. But seldom was it demons. That of course changed, with what Hannibal didn't ask. He didn't require that information currently, instead Hannibal wished to know about demons._

_“Demons are malevolent spirits. Not something like you'd see in movies and whatever. They can look like you 'n me. They possess people to move among the living. Got some nasty tricks up there sleeves though, gotta watch them carefully.” Dean's words were heavy, but thankfully clear given how much was still in his system. They were half way through the conversation at this point. Hannibal had a list in his mind on what he wished to ask. He has already asked about angels and the man was oddly protective of an angel named Castiel._

_“Spirits, did they start as something else?” Hannibal pushed, some information he read could have been false and some was heavily influenced by movies and television._

_Dean seemed troubled at this. Pained almost, interesting._

_“Demons start out as human, most of them anyway. Over the years, even if it took centuries, you get your humanity carved from you. Bit by bit until it's all gone and you're not you anymore. Not all of them remember being human, but some do. Not that it would make a difference. By time they're demons there's nothing resembling human in them. Most of them anyway.” Dean explained, otherwise there was some demons or at least one that was more human than others. Interesting._

_Hannibal of course knowing this now moved onto sighs that someone might be a demon or how to locate one. There was also ways to defeat and protect themselves from demons._

_Dean was willing to share any information regarding this, Hannibal made notes in his mind of everything said and made sure to remember the correct dosage to see if he could get this result out of someone else in the future._

_~ End Conversation ~_

With that conversation in his mind and fresh as though it just happened only moments ago, Hannibal entered the office. His office. Only to note the presence of a man sitting at his desk, a carefully chosen spot to sit no doubt. After all, the desk was Hannibal's and so naturally it was a place of power. Of the owner of the room. The subtle scents of sulphur that was noticed outside of the door only seemed to increase noticeably.

The one sitting at his desk didn't appear as much. Wearing an all black suit that was obviously very expensive. The man himself didn't appear to be very tall and more stout than anything, balding slowly and a strange form of confidence that seemed to cling to him just like the suit the man was currently wearing.

Hannibal closed the door calmly before approaching his own desk, there was a sense of outrage curling inside of him. But it was not enough to act, Hannibal was not one for foolish acts or responding so blindly.

“Hello.” Hannibal greeted the intruder to his office.

“Hello Doctor, I do believe we should speak.” the man responded, words polite and Hannibal recognized the tone because he himself has used it. This was a man who viewed himself better than others in the same room as him. Most do not notice though, most were blind to it only seeing and hearing what they wish. Hannibal was not blind nor was he one to just see what he wants to see rather then the whole picture. Or so this is what he believes in regards to himself.

“Indeed, we could start with you informing me how you got into my office without a key.” Hannibal agreed, a conversation is what was needed. Further action will be decided shortly.

Normally he would prefer names. But seeing what he thought he saw and now finding a man in his office with no sign of how he entered had him briefly skipping over proper manners and introductions for the moment. Instead Hannibal sat down in the chair he normally sits in when speaking with a patient. To his left was the desk and the man who claimed it.

Hannibal felt eyes on him, studying and no doubt cataloguing information. No move was made beyond that.

“This is a nice office you have here, I have to admit I rather do like the classy set up. The knives are a nice touch, barely noticed and not easily accessed unless one knows exactly where to grab. Only the owner of this office would know such information.” The man spoke words confident and made to tell Hannibal that the knives were noticed. Hannibal took a moment while the man moved towards the chair across from him to make sure that they were still in their proper place. It would be awfully rude after all to move something that was not yours originally.

Not made the choice to not give this man a response right away and decided to play those words back again, noting each one. This man knew something about Hannibal, knows enough to know that Hannibal would be armed. He could not use the excuse of unruly patients, it simply would not work.

“Where are my manners, the names Crowley.” The man-Crowley said as he offered a hand to shake and Hannibal pushed the sound of amusement that came from Crowley to the back of his mind. It was irrelevant at the moment, but only for the moment. Hannibal does not forget easily. Especially when insulted and so far he wasn't insulted beyond having his office invaded by someone who was not welcome or invited.

“Dr. Hannibal Lecter.” Hannibal offered in return, shaking the man's hand and noting the name. Replaying everywhere he heard of this name in history, nothing helped in shedding light to who this man was.

“Pleasure.”

“Mr. Crowley, I must insist on you informing me of both your intentions and how you gained access to my office.” Hannibal insisted, voice light and taking on a conversational tone. On the surface anyway, anything heard below that was enough to gain a smile. It was clear that this was not a normal situation for Hannibal, not one where he had to hide who he was and what he was capable of. Much like with the hunter, Hannibal could be himself.

But in this instance, he sat back and kept that part of himself at bay. It would be wiser in the long run, he had to see just what type of individual this was so that Hannibal could respond in kind.

A moment passed between them, it was clear that Hannibal was being regarded. Studied even. A smug smile spread across Crowley's face as he smoothed his shirt out undoing it and leaning back. Relaxed. Not feeling threatened and to someone else, that might be considered either insulting or satisfying. To Hannibal it was neither, just another move made and catalogued.

“First, darling. I want to confirm, that yes the impala that you saw drive by was driven by the eldest Winchester. Who you had as supper and breakfast for that matter. I'm shocked that he wasn't lunch as well, you took enough.” Crowley stated the name he said sounded off like it was not something he used to refer to the man who was mentioned, Crowley was also giving up a card from what it appeared and acting as though he gave nothing away. Hannibal could easily figure, he probably didn't. Only giving confirmation that made Hannibal fully aware that he could be himself much like he was with the hunter and it settled Hannibal in a small way. But not enough to have his walls raised and making sure everything in him was on alert. This could very well be a trap.

A smile made itself known on the man in front of him, Hannibal was not amused. It felt like this guy knew exactly what was going on with Hannibal and his mind. It was unsettling not being the one with all the cards in the room, unsettling and something he would very much like to avoid in the future.

“And you would know this how?” Hannibal asked, making sure that his voice left no room for refusal and there was enough manners for Hannibal to feel satisfied that he was abiding by his own unspoken rules.

“Simple, I asked. I was also a witness to how you set his body up, quite the artistic talent there. But I for one prefer such a useful specimen alive and in one piece. So I simply remedied the situation.” The words were casual but there was a warning there. Not to undo what has been done, perhaps this was why Crowley was here in the first place. It made Hannibal wonder what the hunter was to this man. The one with the sulphuric scent clinging to him. Especially considering this was obviously could be a demon of some sort.

“So you brought him back, how?” Hannibal asked, requiring more information to paint a proper picture in his mind.

“A nifty trick I can do, for a price.” Crowley answered, a quirk of his lips told Hannibal that he was now here merely to amuse himself. He was humouring Hannibal and that was something that caused outrage to curl in his stomach. It was an emotion that was pushed down and set aside. There was other things to focus on.

“A price?” Hannibal asked, but it was obvious that Crowley was not inclined in telling Hannibal what the price was. Though if this was a demon of sort, then it would be obvious what the price might be. A life? A soul. Who would be foolish to pay such a thing, but that in itself was a question that answered itself. The desperate, the nonbelievers who did not think souls even existed and so was willing to pay such a price for something deemed greater. Hannibal would love to hunt down and question all those who made a deal near the end of there term to see if they changed there minds or not.

“Why, is there something you want for a price?” Crowley shot back, voice holding more amusement than it should. Hannibal now knows for certain that the longer this goes on the more it was just one messing around with the other. This man, this thing did not take Hannibal seriously in the least. It was a frustrating sensation, but one that had to be ignored and neglected for the sake of answers.

“No. I do however wish to know what type of demon you are. Your scent and the questioning regarding the price leads me to think that you are a demon.” Hannibal calmly pushed the conversation so that it was more about Crowley now then Hannibal's idle questions and answers. Answers that were limited at the most.

“Crossroad demon, former. King of Hell now, and before you ask or try. I require the squirrel and his moose alive. And although you have not targeted Dean Winchester's little brother, it would be wise for you to not even consider. Dean would kill you if you did. To be honest, I'm surprised the moose hasn't tried to end your life.” Crowley's words were more serious than amused or patronizing. They were informative and caused more questions to come to the forefront of his mind. Was revenge a core base for the two Winchester's? Why was Crowley warning Hannibal? What was so important about them that the supposed King of Hell would bring a mere human back to life?

Curious and curiouser.

“Don't ask why, darling. It is a question I won't answer and you and I could skip a messy situation. New suit, hate to get it stained.” Crowley's voice was once again amused, but the warning was clear and Hannibal was sure that it was a threat that could be carried out. This was a killer for sure.

“Why are you the King of Hell, would that not be -” Hannibal viewed his question as legit, and felt honestly very insulted when interrupted by the amused demon in front of him. A notion that in itself was unsettling, Hannibal never thought that under a week he would be having a conversation with both a hunter and a demon.

“Lucifer?” Crowley interrupted, laughing outright. It was obviously an inside joke of sorts or Hannibal could have possibly got some facts wrong or the research was not as truthful as it would appear to be in some shaky spots.

Hannibal uncrossed his leg, head tilted slightly and his mouth in an open frown. He could not hope to hide his own irritation or frustration at the open disrespect.

“He was locked back in the box, there was an empty space and of course someone competent had to fill it. That would be moi.” Crowley calmly explained, amusement and a clear sense that he did not care that Hannibal was insulted. And why should he? This was the supposed King of Hell, someone of supposed power. Hannibal all the same was skeptical considering this man who appeared as nothing but a stout man in a fancy suit did not appear to be much and behaved even less like a king or someone of power would behave.

And perhaps that was why it was made to be that way, like Hannibal and his supposed person suite. This was a person suite in a more literal way.

There was the sound of a phone vibrating in Crowley's jacket, one that seemed to irritate the man for the moment as he took it out and checked the message he received. Tight lipped and annoyed looking for the moment, Hannibal felt oddly vindicated for that reason. It was petty and so in turn it was something Hannibal didn't show it, instead simply waited to see what was going to happen next.

“As much as I find this conversation amusing, there's other business that I must attend to. No rest for the wicked as they say.” Crowley said and for a moment Hannibal almost felt sorry for whomever was on the other end of that message given the chill that could be found laced in those words. Another part of Hannibal wanted to see how this man would react.

“A shame, I was about to offer wine.” Hannibal stated and he did have a wine that was befitting the thing in front of him. An old vintage of course, Hannibal wouldn't dream to have anything sub par in his collection.

“A pity to miss out. But I do believe your next patient is ready for you. He did have the six o'clock appointment on Fridays, did he not?” Crowley calmly stated as he stood up and walked towards the exit while curiosity drove Hannibal to open the entrance to his office in order to see who it was that was coming in. The one who used to get this time for their appointment ended up having their neck snapped by one Tobias Budge. Hannibal looked from the man who seemed shocked and curious as to how he got there and towards the spot Crowley once stood.

Crowley's voice seemed to drift through the exit door and if Hannibal was correct it sounded like he said,

_“See you in forty two years.”_

With a calm invite, Franklin entered the office and Hannibal used the time to listen to his dull drivel while going over the latest turn of events. He wondered if Dean Winchester's body was still in the morgue? He would have to ask Will when he see's the man later on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya, Crowley wasn't planned for originally... Somehow the demon you can love to hate turned up. Hopefully this chapter is decent, it took about four tries to get it written and finished. I might end up adding a third short chapter to show why Crowley did what he did. All in all though, hopefully you enjoyed the story well enough and I didn't butcher the character too badly...

**Author's Note:**

> I hope I didn't butcher Hannibal's character too badly, this is my first time writing for him. I'm slowly easing my way into a new fandom for writing. Though I don't know if that's a good thing for any stories started in other fandoms... lol.


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